


Spooktober Klance prompts 2019

by SherbetLemon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Actor Lance (Voltron), Affection, Cryptids, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humour, Galra Keith (Voltron), Halloween, Holding Hands, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Pumpkin carving, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Soft Keith (Voltron), Supportive Keith (Voltron), Supportive Lance (Voltron), jack o’lanterns, monthlyklance, older klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-21 08:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherbetLemon/pseuds/SherbetLemon
Summary: Collection of one shots following the monthly klance prompts:1. Cryptids - the boys are filming their latest Cryptid hunting video when Lance gets spooked - luckily Keith’s there to lend ahelping hand;) ;)2. Scary Movie - horror actor Lance rushes home when his baby girl is ill ♥️3. Jack O’Lanterns - two idiots get their heads stuck in pumpkins4. Alien - a Galra Keith fic!! Lance aims to make this next mission a romantic one as he and Keith land on a new planet. But when rumours start to spread of monsters appearing at night, Lance has his doubts. And he notices Keith acting strangely





	1. Crytid

**Author's Note:**

> These are posted from my tumblr so you may have seen them before :)  
Also I’m not doing them all but see the full list of prompts here: https://monthlyklance.tumblr.com/post/187811250671/october-klance-prompts-2019-tag-your-work-with

“Keith, are you holding the camera still?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus Christ! I know how to hold a camera, Lance.”

“Good.”

Lance threw a lopsided grin behind him as he effortlessly hopped between tree routes. Keith was decidedly less agile. He huffed as he stamped up the hill, smacking tree branches out his face and wiping sweat from his temples. How far did Lance want to go? And wasn’t the night supposed to be cold? Keith was sweating enough to form clouds.

“So sightings in this area have been few and far between,” Lance whispered in a loud kind of way, whipping glances back to the far-too-heavy camera Keith was carrying. “But in the last three weeks there’s been SEVEN. That’s more more than there’s been in the last three years combined! Right Keith?”

“Right.” Keith agreed, hoisting the camera up as a particularly large root made itself known. Lance loved making these documentaries and Keith did too. He just regretted investing in this fancy new camera. It seemed professional at the time. And catching a cryptid on a camera where it definitely couldn’t be brushed off as a trick of the light was the ultimate goal. But man was it making his life difficult when he was trying to navigate dense forest.

“Cryptipedia had three entries in as many days.” Keith continued. Lance was the presenter guy, but Keith kept the facts. And carried the camera. The very heavy camera. “And the sources are pretty reputable.”

“Shout out to BigFootBen69!” Lance yelled, swinging around a trunk to throw a peace sign to the camera. “We’d be lost without you.”

“I think we are lost.” Keith muttered, but his complaint cut short. There was a noise. A snapping of a twig not to far off. The two immediately entered stalking mode.

“Which way?” Lance hissed, at Keith’s side in a heart beat. Keith nodded to his left, letting Lance creep ahead as he did a quick swoop of the area with his torch. Nothing so far.

“You think he’s close?” Lance whispered. Keith shrugged. Then remembered Lance couldn’t see him and gave an affirmative hum. The two kept moving.

“You don’t think-“ Lance started before mumbling to himself.

“Think what?”

“It’s just-“ Lance stopped short. “What if it’s not a wolf man? What if it’s like, a guy? A dangerous guy. With a knife or something.”

The boy glanced at Keith. Then he turned around to stare out at the shadows. His fingers began playing with the zip of his coat and his eyes had taken on a ghostly quality as he stared out into the forest.

“Lance,” Keith called softly. He took a gentle step forward, slowly reaching out to touch his arm. Lance twitched suddenly. Then his eyes landed on Keith and he relaxed, leaning fractionally into the touch. “Nothing out here can kill you. Remember the wolf man stories? How it was really a scared dog in need of hugs?”

“Mmhmm.” Lance nodded, sucking on his lip. His zip was still clicking in between his fingers.

“We don’t have to go.” Lance jolted. More than he had at any noise.

“But!” He cried, looking almost like a kid who’d dropped his ice-cream. “I wanna see the puppy!”

Keith was thrown for a brief second. Privately, Lance’s murder talk had conjured up some rather unsavoury images of clowns and chain saws in Keith’s mind but hearing his sweet words had them crumbling like sugar cubes. Keith laughed, quietly so as not to disturb the forest but loudly because he couldn’t help it.

“Let’s go see the puppy then.” He said fondly, grabbing Lance’s hand and nodding forward. “Lead the way.”

Lance stayed still a second longer, taking a deep breath. Then with his chest puffed out, he squeezed Keith’s hand like a sponge.

“Okay!”

And he took a step forward, determined once again. And Keith followed, their palms staying firmly together as they waded through the dark hoping to catch a glimpse of something, friend or foe.

_And thus, the story of how Kosmo was thrust upon the couple is told. Too small to be a man, too big to be a puppy, too cute to be left out in the cold~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I need to write a fic about rescue puppy kosmo because the idea is here now and I love it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! ♥️


	2. Scary Movie

“Cut!”

Lance did not miss the way his co-star groaned at the call, rolling her eyes as she slumped off to get some water. Nyma always was a bit of a diva. But this time Lance agreed, throwing his head to the ceiling and stamping his foot. 

“Lance!” The director jogged over form his chair as tech milled around trying to re-put together the set. “What’s going on?”

“Argh Coran, I’m sorry, let’s just go again.” And before he could answer Lance already took position forcing his shoulders loose. This was an important scene. Killer clown facing off with the heroine for the last time. And Lance kept messing it up. But instead of calling ‘action’, Coran moved again, sidling up to Lance and placing a firm hand to his back. 

“Is something going on?” 

Lance sighed. “It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. Lance just needed to get this scene over and done with as quickly as possible and was frustrated that he couldn’t get any of his lines right, let alone not trip over the set. Killer clowns did not trip. 

Coran didn’t move. Instead he smoothed his hand over Lance’s back until he reached his shoulder and gave a tight squeeze. 

“You’re my top actor. You’re never off form. So when you struggle like this, don’t think that I can’t see you! Now tell me, what’s wrong?”

Lance sighed again. A longer one this time that seemed to deflate his body as he rolled his head forward.

“Keith called during the break. Sammie’s ill and he’s been called into work early so I’ve gotta go home and look after her which would have been fine but then I keep messing up this scene and it’s taking too long and Keith’s gotta go in like 10 minutes!”

What had started off as a simple simple statement had rocketed into stress and Lance was left huffing up at the clock. He was supposed to be home by now. 

“Ahh,” Coran noised almost in a hum, voice a smooth calmness he never seemed to lose. It was something that made him such a great director to work with. “So your daughters ill.”

Lance nodded. The image of his poor girl curled up on the sofa with a small frown on her face instead of reaping havoc like usual made his stomach hurt.

“How old is she?”

“Three next month.” Lance said easily. He could still remember the day the foster home called him to tell them the news they’d be getting a daughter. Lance had been nervous at the prospect of a baby, an older kid might have meant less broken nights. But when he held Sammie in his arms for the first time, he couldn’t bare the thought of putting her down - even Keith struggled to get a cuddle in that first day. And now she was old enough to go to nursery. And couldn’t leave her daddy Keith alone. Lance wasn’t jealous. But it was definitely because of the hair. Papa Lance didn’t have long hair and Sammie had a penchant for plaiting - a skill Lance taught her by the way!

“You should go.” 

Lance stopped his thoughts. He blinked at Coran, but the man just slapped him on the back again, hard enough to make Lance stumble. 

“You should go.” He repeated, before taking on a wistful glow “I remember when my niece was that age. Couldn’t bear to part with her, much to the annoyance of her father. So I understand. There’s more to life than the workplace. Go be with your daughter, we’ll reshoot tomorrow. Sound good?”

Lance couldn’t believe his luck. 

“Sounds great! Thank you so much Coran!”

The man simply smiled as Lance bounded off, rushing about the set to grab his things. 

“Let me know how young Sammie’s doing!” Coran called, still in place. 

“I will!” Lance yelled back over his shoulder, already out the door. If he hit all green lights he could be home in fifteen minutes. Keith would only be a few minutes late to work and Sammie could be sipping Lance’s classic homemade from the tin soup in no time!

As soon as he parked the car, Lance ran up the steps to the house, scrambling with his keys in his haste to burst through.

“I’m home!” He called, slamming the door behind him and angling his head up the stairs.

“Hey- OH MY GOD!” 

Keith had rounded the corner from the kitchen, when he came to an abrupt halt, throwing his hands into the air and taking on the face of a startled rabbit. His phone clattered to the floor as his body froze, eyes wider than dinner plates. 

“What?” Lance yelped, whipping around to check there wasn’t a knife-wielding ghost behind him. Keith never got scared. Which meant mortal danger was imminent. “What’s going on!? Are we okay!?”

Lance had expected Keith to switch into police mode then. Make a bunch of commands and kick ass. But instead, the man gave a sigh of relief slumping against the wall. 

“Oh thank god.” Keith breathed, hand clutched to his chest. Lance gave him a curious look.

From further inside, there was a ringing voice, curious too. 

“Daddy?” 

Sammie waddled out the kitchen, frowning at her dad. Then she noticed the phone and lost interest, crouching down to grab it. Sammie liked phones. She also liked sugary sweets. And her permanent sticky fingers were like cyanide to the screen. Keith immediately sprang back up in alarm. Lance was about to laugh but his worry was aimed right at Lance. 

“You’re still in costume.” He hissed. 

Lance was thrown. He looked down at his wrists to find mucky lace cuffs flouncing around his hands. Striking red polka dot sleeves led on from them, covered in rips and splatters of something darker. With an air of apprehension, Lance reached up to wipe his cheek. It was damp. And when he brought his hand back down, thick white paint covered his fingers.

“Oh crap!” Lance announced suddenly, “sorry Sammie!” 

And then he bolted for the bathroom.

Lance scrubbed hard at his face with a flannel, bringing away layer upon layer of paint. The make-up team always did a thorough job, and despite having a mini heart attack every time he looked in the mirror at work Lance found the never-failing standard impressive. The large blue circles around his eyes never faltered and the dripping black triangles down his cheeks were always in the exact same spot. Now they were grey swirls as Lance desperately tried to remove it with soap and cold water. He’d spilt he last of his make-up remover down the sink in his haste and now mumbled angrily to himself as he rubbed his skin raw. Water dropped from his chin and he had to tie the clown suit around his waste like overalls to stop it getting ruined. God, how did he manage the drive over here without causing mass hysteria!? No wonder so many people had let him go at the turnings. He was a living nightmare.

There was a knock at the door. 

“Can I come in?” Keith called, a little thud indicating he’d let his head fall against the door sympathetically. 

“Is Sammie with you?”

“No. I gave her some medicine and put her to bed.”

“Okay then.”

The door creaked open and Keith snuck in, smiling through the mirror.

“You could have told me you were busy. I would have phoned somebody else.”

Lance shrugged, throwing the cloth under the tap again. “Thought I’d finish earlier.”

He slapped the thing against his cheek, swiping at the white marks. Keith tutted, moving around to grab the flannel. 

“Can I?”

“If you want.”

Keith nodded to the bath and Lance sighed, flopping onto the side of it. Keith reapplied the soap, folding the towel into fours and putting it under warm water. Then he kneeled down, reaching up to gently slide the cloth down Lance’s cheek. 

“Better?”

“Better,” Lance breathed, letting his eyes slip shut. Keith’s touch was a lot nicer than the cheese grater Lance was treating his face with before. It was kind of like being in a spa. Or the early days of their relationship when Lance got ill and Keith would gently dab his forehead with a wet cloth, snuggling in close despite the risk of catching a cold. Lance relaxed into the bath, slowly leaning into Keith’s touch and humming to himself. 

“Don’t you need to go to work?”

“Shiro’s covering.” Keith said easily. “Said I’ve got a killer clown to deal with.”

Lance snorted. “Maybe a clown sure.”

“You’re not a clown.”

“Think I am.” Lance said with a sigh. Keith moved the cloth away and Lance let his eyes fall open. “I ran all the way here without even thinking about changing. We have a two year old!? I could have killed her with the fright!”

Keith laughed softly. “I don’t think she saw.”

“She better not have.”

It was quiet a moment, just the buzz of the extractor fan above them.

“But why did you run?” Keith asked finally, placing the cloth on his knees. “I could have called someone else to babysit. Hell, I could have just told Captain Kolivan I couldn’t come in.”

“But I wanted to,” Lance said, feeling the words right down to his chest. “When you said Sammie was ill I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even if you didn’t have work I’d still have wanted to be here. I was a mess on set. I kept tripping on the door I was breaking down and messing up my lines! It was so embarrassing! I don’t even know why! You were here! You had it under control! Me, on the other hand, I rush around looking like bloody murder!”

Lance huffed at the end of his speech. Keith had his head ducked, hiding small hiccups of laughter to himself. Lance would be mad if it wasn’t so infectious. 

“I’m a mess.” Lance said eventually. Keith shook his head. 

“You just care. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

The man got to his feet, dumping the flannel in the sink and settling next to Lance on the tub. 

“It’ll get easier.” He said, knocking their shoulders together, “but Sammie’s still so young. And we’re still so new to this. We’re gonna make mistakes. But I think it’s okay when they’re because we care.”

Lance hummed. Then he leaned down to rest his head on Keith’s shoulder. He always did have a knack of saying the right thing when he needed to. And it made Lance’s tummy warm.

“How is she?” 

“Good. Says her stomach still hurts, but no vomiting since lunchtime.”

“Lovely.”

They sat quietly a moment. 

“You wanna go watch the first killer clown film and fall asleep on the sofa?” Keith asked.

“It’s only my favourite lullaby.”

Keith laughed softly, squeezing Lance into his side before leaving to get the film ready. Lance splashed his face with water. He did feel like a mess. But somehow, Keith made him feel like it was okay.

A few hours later, Lance woke up with a warm weight on his chest. The couple had fallen asleep tangled up on the sofa - Lance against the cushions, Keith against Lance. Two mugs lay abandoned on the floor, corner of the blanket trailing in one and the remote lying face down on top of the other. The TV still glowed in the background. Lance clutched Keith close and tried to manoeuvre around to grab the remote. Keith gave a pathetic noise of protest. 

“Just switching off the TV.” Lance whispered, ducking down to kiss his head before he froze. In front of the rolling credits was a shape blocking out the little white letters leaving the screen.

“Papa?” 

Sammie turned around where she sat directly in front of the TV, tiny fist rubbing her eye. Lance’s stomach fell through the floor.

“Yes honey?” He asked, voice becoming high in his apprehension. 

“I really liked that film.”

Lance had more problems on his hand than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun :) and about time I wrote a parents klance fic!
> 
> Thanks for reading~ ♥️


	3. Jack O’Lanterns

The lights were low on the castle ship, Pidge having messed around with the circuits until she could produce a red glow. Lance had asked for golden, something ambient like candlelight, but she decided red was more halloween-y, being the colour of blood and all. Lance suspected she had actually been trying for orange and couldn’t succeed. No matter! The castleship wasn’t glaringly white like usual, and Lance had other things to worry about, like laying down blankets in order to keep it that way, so her shortcoming was forgiven.

As he laid out the final blanket, plonking a set of knives and pens in the middle, a shout came from the hallway.

“I’ve got the pumpkins!” Hunk called, and a second later a pile of oversized pumpkins on two legs rounded the corner, the topmost one rolling to the floor.

“What the-?” Lance began, but another pile followed, and when this one talked it sounded rather like a small green paladin.

“Not pumpkins.” The pile announced, “they’re fruit from some planet Coran knows the name of. Don’t ask him.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.” Shiro commented, walking in after with a single alien pumpkin tucked against his stomach.

Pidge didn’t answer, just sighed very deeply. Lance didn’t pay them mind, homing in on the one pumpkin that had slipped away. It was huge! Bigger than a fishbowl. And heavy too, as Lance found out lifting it up to his eyes.

“I could fit my head in this!” Lance cried, awestruck. This was going to make one hell of a jack o’lantern.

Then a single syllabled laugh killed the mood. Lance jolted, nearly crushing the space fruit in his palms as he spun around. Keith leaned against the door frame, raising his eyebrows at the display in front of him. Lance scoffed. God forbid he come all the way into the room and actually have some fun.

“Something to say, Keith?” He hissed. Lance was vaguely aware of the rest of the group setting out pumpkins and knives with a quiet kind of resignation behind him but paid it no mind. It seemed even Shiro had stopped bothering to interrupt their arguing these days. Lance was glad. Someone had to tell Keith killing joy wasn’t a full-time job.

“No.” The boy in question replied, kicking one leg over the other as he settled into his infuriating lean, “just found it funny that you think you can fit your head inside a vegetable.”

“Fruit!” Someone called behind them, probably Pidge. Lance didn’t care, lifting up the fruit to shove it at Keith.

“It’s huge.”

Keith shrugged. He had the awful twitch in his lip that led to a smirk and Lance felt his blood boil.

“So’s your head.”

Lance’s last thread of patience snapped.

“MY HEAD? MINE? Coming from Mr I’ll-stand-in-the-corner-acting-all-superior-every-time-the-team-has-an-ounce-of-fun-cause-I’m-too-good-for them-massive-head. Shut up! It wouldn’t fit over your head!”

“Oh, it would.”

“You wanna try?”

“Bring it.”

Keith stamped across the room and Lance scrambled to follow. Hunk heaved out a weak “guy’s...” but it wasn’t about to stop them. Keith had already stabbed his knife into his pumpkin as Lance dropped to the floor.

It didn’t have to be perfect, Lance decided as he grabbed the knife out of Pidge’s hand, it just had to be done. The girl yelped, but Lance was already plunging the metal through the peel, sawing like his life depended on it.

The fruit was softer than a real pumpkin, so cutting was easy and Lance got a clean circle in no time. But the insides, that’s where Lance took pause. There were no stringy fibres. Instead, the fruit was filled with fish eggs - or rather seeds that looked like fish eggs. And in his haste Lance had already thrown his hand in only to be stopped when the jelly-like beads began oozing and popping between his fingers.

Hunk retched beside him.

“That is so gross.” Pidge commented and Lance turned to her, finding her hands still clean, barely a scratch on her pumpkin.

“Uh huh,” Lance squeaked, glaring at her, “you’re not the one freaking touching it.”

“You giving up?” Keith called and Lance crushed his hand into the goo.

“No! I’m just getting started.”

Then he thrust a second hand into the pumpkin, bits of fruit spewing out like sick and started clearing in earnest, digging like a dog with a new bone. In seconds the pot was empty.

“Hah!” He shouted, shoving the thing over his head without a second thought. It caught painfully on his ears but he forgot near instantly as his world became orange and he whooped in delight.

“Shove it Keith! I got it on!”

“I did too, idiot.”

“Well I did it first!”

“How could you tell, your face was deep in pumpkin?”

“Oh, I could tell!”

Lance leapt onto his feet. He was about to throw his new helmet away and have a proper yelling match when he stumbled instead landing in sticky fruit entrails. The helmet was still firmly on.

“What the hell!?”

Regaining his footing he tried pushing it off again, clanking his teeth together when his chin smacked up. The helmet stayed on.

“Oh god.”

He scraped at the bottom, craning his neck with increasing panic.

“Oh no, no no no noooo. Help!”

Lance started stumbling across the room, knocking into another person who was hissing out a series of curses.

“Guys!” Lance cried. His ears were burning now, skin covered in sweat. Helmet still on. “I’m stuck!”

“No shit.”

Lance whirled around in the general direction of Pidge’s comment. “Help me!”

“Oh no you dug your own grave here.”

“What!?”

“Guys, seriously.” It was Keith now. A stern command, heavily muffled. “Get this off me now.”

“Nope!” Pidge announced, popping the ‘p’. There was the distinct sound of gleeful skipping.

“Shiro!” Keith pleaded.

Lance tried to look helpless, aiming in the direction he guessed Shiro was in.

“Oh no, I’m with Pidge. This is your mess.”

“But-”

“Hey, if you’d thought through your actions instead of rushing into ridiculous competition, you wouldn’t be here.” Shiro said with ringing finality.

Keith was clearly taking this lying down, letting out a pathetic growl, but Lance was determined.

“No way!” He cried, talking over Keith’s feeble attempts at reasoning. “You can’t leave us like this!”

“Oh, we can.” Pidge gleamed. She was gaining far too much joy in this as she cackled, sounding much further away than before.

“Wait you’re not leaving are you!?”

There was a sharp very Shiro-like cough. “It’s for your own good.”

“But!” Lance thought frantically for some excuses. “We’ll run out of air! I can’t breathe! Shiro I’m suffocating! Shiro!”

A hand came down on Lance’s shoulder and he jumped away.

“Relax,” Hunk cooed. It had incredible effect as Lance did relax, not only letting Hunk replace his hand but leaning into it.

“Thanks Hunk.”

“No probs bud. Stay still a tick?”

Lance nodded before turning statue. There was a popping sound and a slit of light poked through the orange ceiling around him. Lance couldn’t help grin. Hunk always had his back. Then something else poked through the gap - a small tube of sorts.

“So you can breathe.” Hunk commented, slapping Lance’s back and sliding off.

“Wait what!?”

There was a puncture sound from further off, Hunk piercing Keith’s headpiece too like a carton of juice.

“Sorry bud. We are leaving you a knife though.”

“Oh great! How thoughtful!” Lance soured, sinking into his hip and throwing out his palm. The knife didn’t get placed in it.

Instead, Pidge’s voice echoed once again. “He didn’t say he’d give it to you.”

“What!?” Lance shrieked, in a panic once again, “I don’t want knife boy stabbing me like this!”

“You want to be stabbed some other way?” Keith growled, much closer than before, “‘cause I’ll wait.”

“I don’t want to be stabbed at all! Especially not by you.”

“Guys.” Hunk huffed, and suddenly there was a sharp pain to the right side of Lance’s head. It seemed as if Hunk had literally banged their heads together and Keith made a grunt similar to Lance’s as they suffered through the resulting tremors.

“Sort yourselves out. I’m leaving the knife on the shelf where no-one can get hurt. Either find a way to help each other out or get the knife without killing each other. You’re choice.”

There was the sound of feet swivelling on tiles, and then footsteps - quick and purposeful. Lance made a few final pleas, but they were all met with dead silence.

“Keith?” He finally called.

“Yeah?”

“This is your fault.”

The ensuing argument lasted a good half an hour and consisted mostly of “no it’s not” and “yes it is”. By the end of it Lance found himself sat against the wall, foot drumming relentlessly against the floor as an aura of bitterness surrounded him.

“You know if you’d just come into the room earlier none of this would have happened.”

Keith scoffed. He hadn’t even strayed that far from Lance, but still had the confidence of a man standing outside of swinging room. Lance was fuming.

“What, you think I’m wrong? You spend all day standing around in doorways wearing condescending looks and giving out stupid comments.”

“I do training!”

“Oh I’m sorry!” Lance cried, irritation burning in his veins “Let me start over, when you’re not killing yourself in the training room you’re out here watching all of us like some kind of guardian demon”

Keith threw back just as much anger back. “Well, what do you expect me to do when you’re all hanging out together in one room!?”

“Uh, come in!”

It was pretty damn obvious as far as Lance was concerned.

“Whatever.” Keith murmured as if that would end the conversation. It only spurred Lance on.

“No, come on! Tell me! Why d’you spend you’re whole day looking down on us all instead of joining in?”

“Don’t push me Lance,” Keith growled but the warning fell on deaf ears.

“Push you? Please, I’m pulling at teeth here just trying to get you to talk. You know how much of a difficult person you are Keith? Very. I just wanna know why you think so highly of yourself. Why it’s such a bother to be around us, why you can’t even bring yourself to play our games but how you’ll always hang around in the corner anyway because what? It’s so funny seeing the ants playing their little games. So silly how they actually wanna be friends. So-“

“YOU NEVER INVITE ME!”

Lance stopped in his tracks. Keith was still huffing with his outburst, and in the sudden quiet Lance could clearly hear the crumple of jacket as he crossed his arms and slid away against the wall.

“It doesn’t matter.” He murmured, but Lance felt strongly that it did. The room was quiet now, the thick kind where there was so much to be said that it spread through the room like invisible fog.

“You’re not a vampire you know.” Lance offered but it didn’t come out light like he’d hoped, more like a dig. Or at least that must have been what Keith thought if his resulting growl was anything to go by.

“Just leave me alone.”

“No!”

Lance rounded on the boy, throwing out his hands to catch him before he could get any further away. Lance had missed the mark, grabbing the front of his shirt and the shoulder of his jacket. But he’s stopped Keith, so with determination he slapped his hands again, hitting his head dead on. Lance was about to give his speech when stopped short.

“Holy-“

When he pushed at the sides of the fruit covering Keith’s face it’s curved reversed, bottom jutting out. He played a second, feeling the curve bounce in and out, concave, convex, concave, convex. It was almost like a toy, Lance fascinated by the strange physics, until he realised what it meant. A second later, Lance had yanked the pumpkin off Keith’s head and hastily followed with his own.

Lance gulped in fresh air. It was so clear, like a glass of water after a day full of squash. He blinked into the white light of the castle ship, wiping away the spots covering his vision until he could see the blankets bunched up in the centre of the room and the strange pumpkin goop laying like entrails across the floor. Lance laughed.

“We’re free!”

“Cool.”

It only took another second to remember what Lance had been doing and he instantly found Keith. The boy’s face was flushed with pink splotches, and he had it ducked towards the ground as he climbed to his feet. There was a frown, not his usual scowl, just an embarrassed, maybe even sad expression laying on his lips. For some reason it made Lance’s chest ache. He grabbed Keith’s hand.

“You’re not a vampire,” he insisted. Keith rolled his eyes but Lance was determined and gave his hand a sharp squeeze. “You don’t need to be invited.”

“It’s not that simple.” Keith mumbled. His hand was limp in Lance’s grip and he stared purposefully at the door. Lance let go.

“It is.” He said towards his lap. It felt futile. But then, Keith didn’t move.

Lance felt a bubble of hope in his tummy. So, he took a chance, standing up and blocking Keith’s gaze. “You’re always invited to hang out with us.”

Then he lowered his head, nerves spilling into his stomach like sparks.

“But if it will help,” he said, feeling the sparks bounce all the way down his arms, “I’ll make sure to ask.”

“Really?”

Lance took a pause. Keith’s eyes shine at the prospect, scared but lined with hope. Lance swallowed thickly, pretending not to notice the skip in his heartbeat. “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

Keith smiled now. The closest Lance had seen him get to a beam. It was closed mouth but sparkled in his eyes, cheeks round and still a little pink. Before it could go to his head, Lance spun around.

“You wanna go get revenge on the team?” He asked, eyeing up the gross innards of space pumpkin and finding a plan formulate in his mind.

“Oh yeah.” Keith replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was stupid and I couldn’t not.
> 
> Also, I figured it was time to switch up who supported who in this one for b a l a n c e 
> 
> Thanks for reading!~


	4. Alien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a little longer... as in doubles the length of fic longer lmao! please enjoy~

The sun was setting by the time Lance and Keith landed planet side. The descent had gone smoothly, no laser fire or homing missiles or field of thorns to land in. Lance was feeling pretty good. But maybe that was more to do with the fact that this was a two-person mission - a couples-mission if you would - with Lance’s one and only crush.

It had been a few months now that he’d noticed his feet turned to springs every time he walked around Keith. There was a little wriggle in his stomach every time someone mentioned him. And time always seemed too short when they talked. It was rosy - Lance knew that - but it was bubbling like wine.

The two were getting closer. The wriggles in Lance’s belly more like barrel rolls. And one long night at the Byzantee’s liberation ball, they were an eyelash’s width away from kissing. They’d been edging closer all night, goading each other into eating strange foods, laughing at how the Byzantee stumbled drunkenly around despite being slug-like and sturdy. They’d made their escape into the halls, hiding under dark wooden walls, leaning in close. Their voices were hushed, Keith’s breath warm, heart rushing.

And then Hunk came crashing through.

One hand threw them apart, the other clamped over his mouth whilst his panicking eyes shouted, ‘MOVE MOVE MOVE’. It would be safe to say, the mood was lost.

Which is what made this mission so important. Not the so-called Galra presence Lance wasn’t detecting along the cobbled streets. And Keith seemed to feel it too, striding between the hodge-podge of town houses with his face to the sky, breathing in the sunset.

“Seems pretty safe if you ask me.” Lance commented, noticing the pots of flowers lining the curbs. He could have very well been in a small English town if it wasn’t for the luminescent petals and the tall bees stalking over them as if on stilts.

Keith hummed. Then he shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “We should go watch the sunset.”

That was easier than expected.

“Sure!” Lance cried, and he did a little hop as he fell into step next to Keith. “I saw a hill up ahead, wanna go up there?”

“Sounds good.”

Conveniently, the residents of the town had built a winding stone path into the hillside, meaning Lance’s thighs were spared the ache of a direct climb. They hadn’t seen many of the residents, Lance noted. In town the population kept to themselves, raking beady eyes down the two before popping into shops or houses. On the hill, only a single man had passed them. He was a near giant, lumbering down the pass on trunk-like legs. Yet, when he spotted the two, he ducked his hat and hid his eyes as if trying to hide.

“Is there a native species to this planet?” Lance asked Keith as they hopped off the path at a spot Keith had deemed decent.

“Dunno.” Keith answered, moving onto the ground and swivelling around until he had one knee up and one knee down. Then he patted the grass next to him, curling his elbow against his knee and sending Lance a lazy smile. “Does it matter?”

Lance’s knees buckled.

“I-it’s just, everyone I’ve seen...” Lance felt his cheeks flame. He was rambling. And wobbling. And making unnecessary observations about diversity. He threw himself onto the grass before he could say anymore.

“Pidge said it was a common immigration planet.” Keith offered, wearing a sly smile as he turned to the sky, “Like a safe-haven.”

Lance breathed. At least Keith seemed calm.

“Damn Galra,” he hissed, awkwardly sticking his hands into the grass, “how many people have they got to displace? We’ve got a whole planet here!”

Keith was too busy gazing out at the sunset to respond and Lance was too busy fussing over his foot placements to notice. There were a few wispy clouds tinged in pink sailing across the sky and when Lance finally stopped fidgeting, he could appreciate just how calming it was to watch them - like boats bobbing on the sea. He could almost feel the salty air tugging on his hair, hear the rhythmic clanking of sails on masts and feel the sand slipping between his toes. Lance let his head fall towards his shoulder.

“It’s nice here,” he said.

“But?

Lance sighed. “But it’s not Earth.”

For him, the sky was just a little too golden, sun a little too big - and there was no denying it was beautiful - but Earth’s had a rawness unmatched by space. The cooling temperatures, the lengthening shadows, the blues fading and changing. It was a new experience every time - and yet never a disappointment.

Besides, there was no ocean here. Lance knew logically there were plenty of places to watch the sun set on earth without ever even acknowledging the ocean, but he’d never seen the point. Maybe he was just biased. Or homesick. Probably the latter.

“It’s kinda like Earth,” Keith offered, curling over his knee once again like a lazy cat. “Green grass. Single sun. Someone interrupting the quiet every five seconds.”

Lance made an offended noise. He was about to defend himself when he found Keith smiling up at him and forgot what he was angry about. Lance had always liked it when Keith relaxed. Especially like this, when Lance could observe the softness of his planes and the way his cheek squashed into his eye, pushing against the angle of his knee. But, here, in the gold light of evening, the boy was infinitely sweeter and despite his misgivings with where they were, Lance found himself smiling too.

“It’s not Cuba.” He said, without nearly enough sadness.

“That’s it’s not.” Keith agreed.

They turned back to the sky.

“You’d like Cuba.” Lance said suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

Lance grinned. “Because you like me.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but Lance did not miss the amused puff of air that left his nose. He didn’t comment. Just shook his shoulders in a smug sort of way, the warmth of triumph sinking into his chest.

It was peaceful as the evening drew on, the two watching the sun sink down in relative quiet. Lance found himself relaxing into the grass almost sleepily, rolling his head closer to Keith with every comment. But as the circle started to melt, there was some shuffling from behind. Lance glanced over his shoulder just as a woman broke the hilltop behind them. She froze, staring. Then she shook her head, turning back once again.

“Odd.” Lance commented, turning back around. Keith shrugged, copying Lance’s stance by kicking out his legs and leaning back on his elbows.

“Probably wanted our spot.”

But as the sun continued to fall, a couple walked passed, and Lance couldn’t help notice how their conversation turned to whispers as their footsteps grew louder. Then an old man showed up.

“You should get inside.” He called out, shaking his head as he leaned heavy on his walking stick. “Not safe.”

Lance looked him over. He was a thin kind of alien, wearing an oversized jacket and red woollen hat. His skin was leathery and hung loose on his cheek bones, reminding Lance of the old fisherman back home. Only this fisherman had skin bluer than the sea and raised bumps on his forehead like the shell of a turtle. Keith raised an eyebrow, prompting Lance to call back.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine sir, thank you for worrying!”

The man tutted. Then he turned muttering to himself. Lance could feel a chill run along his neck. But the sun wasn’t fully set yet.

“There’s monsters out here y’know!”

Lance jolted at the shout. Spinning around he found another alien, with curling white hair and deep magenta skin.

“Monsters.” She repeated. Her tongue slid between her teeth like a snake and Lance shuddered.

“Thanks!” He cried, because he didn’t know what else to do. “Will bear that in mind!”

He turned back with a nervous laugh, staring intently at the sun. He wished it wasn’t so low.

“Monsters!” She repeated, voice shrill and loud. “You ought to be inside.”

“YES THANK YOU.” Lance yelped. Why couldn’t sunsets make sounds? And if they did, why couldn’t they come with a remote so he could turn it up?

“Don’t you hear me!?”

“Yep! We got it!”

The woman huffed angrily. “GET INSIDE!”

Lance squeezed his fists into the grass. He hadn’t wanted a shouting match this evening. Hadn’t wanted to feel this angry. But it burned through his eyes as he glared red at the sun.

“WE WILL LATER!”

There was a tut. “You better.”

Lance wanted to punch her. But she said no more. And as the quiet returned, Lance assumed she left. Still, he didn’t dare turn around. Just glared at the sun until it disappeared. Stupid aliens ruining stupid sunsets. How were they supposed to be romantic when people kept talking about monsters and danger?

“Lance?”

“What?” Lance snapped before remembering where he was. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Keith said, laughing softly. “You wanna go?”

Lance didn’t respond right away.

Keith spoke again, “you okay?”

Lance shrugged. Then he frowned. Then he found himself pulling his jacket closer around his shoulders as he talked. “I know monsters aren’t real...”

“But?”

Lance shook his head. Climbing to his feet, he offered out a hand and pulled Keith up too. “Rumours don’t come from nowhere.”

Keith squeezed his hand. “This planet’s safe.”

“I know.” Lance said, but found himself unable to let go as he looked down at the grass.

“You’re a paladin of Voltron,” Keith continued, ducking down to catch his eye, “maybe not an official monster hunter but I’d place a pretty good bet on you in a fight against one.”

Lance smirked. “Really? You have a bad habit of losing bets.”

“That’s because they’re always against you.”

Lance started laughing. “You wanna bet?”

Keith punched him in the arm.

“Come on, monsters or not, it’s getting late.”

“Sure,” Lance sang. It was as if Keith had sucked all the fear from him with just a few choice words. And Lance began ambling down the path after him feeling giddy once more, “wouldn’t want Prince Charming losing out on his beauty sleep. Less than eight hours and you’ll be the monster everyone’s avoiding.”

Keith turned back to glare and it filled Lance with glee. He couldn’t help it as he threw his head back and laughed. He’d made a habit of pushing his luck around Keith, but he got the feeling the other didn’t really mind.

Town was much less welcoming now they were walking at dusk. Curtains were closed, shutters hurriedly being placed onto windowsills and any passers-by setting a brisk pace with hats pulled low. The inn sat centre of the street, metal sign swinging shrilly in the wind. Keith ducked inside, ahead of Lance, pulling at his jacket sleeves. He seemed to have made a habit of that since re-entering town. Lance had assumed the boy wasn’t affected by the cold given his habit of sweating profusely on the fridge they called a castle, but maybe it was a case of strong winds and a barely-there jacket.

Nobody was manning reception when they arrived, so Lance dinged the bell. Swinging on his toes as he waited, he noticed Keith scratching at his arm, glimpsing irritated skin.

“You okay?” He asked. Keith immediately pulled down his sleeve.

“M’fine.”

It was a rather abrupt reply. And Keith purposely turned his stare up to the keys lining the wall to cut off any further conversation. His hand was glued to his sleeve.

“Really?” Lance asked unbelieving, “thought you might have got yourself a rash given how you can’t leave your arm alone.”

Keith’s eyes widened a fraction before they flickered down to his arm. His fingers tightened around his wrist.

“It’s nothing.” He said. Then he met Lance’s gaze and shrugged guiltily. “I mean, it’s a rash. I’ll ask Coran when we get back.”

Lance hummed. It was nice to hear he intended to get help, but Keith sounded very unsure of the whole ordeal.

“If it gets worse tell me.”

Keith didn’t answer. But it didn’t matter because at that moment, their conversation was interrupted by heavy footsteps and swishing fabric.

“Hello?”

An alien appeared at the door, dressed in a coat that reached the floor and a floppy hat that did not match the season. They had speckled skin, of indigo and white, though it was only just visible on their chin as the brim of their hat fell low enough to touch their white lips.

“Hi!” Lance greeted brightly, waving briefly, “we’re looking for a room. Just a few nights. Two beds?”

The alien pursed their lips, forming a heart shape.

“A few nights.” They repeated uncertainly. “It’s the waxing moon you realise?”

“Uhh...” Lance looked to Keith but he looked just as lost as Lance felt. “No?”

“You mustn’t go out.”

“What? Why?”

“The waxing moon.” Is all the explanation the alien gave before spinning around and grabbing a set of keys. They threw them down on the counter loudly.

“Monsters.” They said, squeezing the metal under gloved fingers. “They come out at night. The full moon asks of it.”

“O-kay?”

Lance was starting not to like this place at all, glancing to Keith for help. But he wasn’t looking. His hand was scratching his arm again and he was staring out the window, as if watching something.

“Keith?” Lance prompted, nudging an elbow into his side.

“What? I’m fine.” Keith snapped, shoving his arm behind his back. “These the keys?” He said flatly to the server. The alien nodded, passing them over.

“It’s a suite.” They said, “two bedrooms, one bathroom, a shared sitting space. It’s located on the second floor. Enjoy.”

Lance didn’t feel the genuine intent of that last instruction, the flat delivery and immediate disappearance of their host offering no comfort whatsoever.

“Should we-” Lance began but Keith was already stamping up the stairs. “Hey wait!”

Keith went straight to his room without another word.

Lance was a light sleeper at the best of times. But with the unnerving town and talk of monsters he’d fallen into a restless slumber. So, when there was a crash of falling glass, he sprang up instantly.

“Keith?” He called out. The wind was rumbling overhead, and only the rattling roof tiles gave answer. A cold tickle of air slipped under the window break, and crawled around his neck. With a shudder Lance leapt out of bed. “KEITH!”

There was the sudden slam of a door. “I’m fine!”

Lance jumped at the noise. Then he processed who it was and slumped breathlessly into the wall. “You scared me. What’s going on, are you alright?”

“Yeah!” Keith cried. Lance slipped out his bedroom. “Just dropped a glass. I’ll get another from downstairs.”

Lance stopped short. “Wait, you’re leaving the apartment?”

The night suddenly felt a lot colder. Lance pulled on his shirt sleeves.

“I uh already have...” Keith called back. Lance realised now the hall light was glowing around the front door and Keith’s bedroom was wide open.

“I’ll come with you!” Lance shouted, throwing himself back into his room to grab a jacket.

“NO!”

Lance tripped over his own feet. “What, why not!?”

“I mean... I’m fine. It’s not far. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Hurried footsteps followed and Lance was left bewildered. He was still midway to the floor, bulk of his jacket gripped between tense fingers, but with Keith’s sudden retreat he was left slowly rebalancing. It was odd. Lance had thought they’d built a kind of report in the last few months where they did things together, even if it wasn’t necessary. Just a kind of habit of keeping company. It was hard not to feel a little hurt at the betrayal. Lance clutched the jacket to his chest.

The room wasn’t so dark now his eyes had adjusted. But that only made the whole thing worse. The shadows all looked menacing, Lance caught flashes of horns and figures before he refocused on chairs and clothes. He sunk into the wall. Keith would be back soon. Lance wouldn’t be alone for much longer. So he settled into fiddling with the material of his pockets. Keith would be back soon, he repeated to himself like a mantra, as his eyes blinked slower and slower and the floor seemed to get closer and closer. He didn’t hear the latch of the door before he fell asleep.

The next day was weirder than the first. Lance had a crick in his neck and a bad temper. He’d intended to wait Keith out the night before, standing against the wall in order to stay awake long enough to hear the latch click. But it never did. And Lance woke up slouched between the wall and hard floor with a painful dent in his face formed by the zip of his jacket.

Instinctively, he blamed Keith for his pain. But the boy wasn’t acting early nsmug enough for it to feel right. In fact, Keith was keeping very quiet. Over breakfast he took on a distant look, skin pale and eyes rimmed with red. Lance had asked how he’d slept, a subtle way of promoting his own poor night and Keith had rushed out a yes before hurriedly throwing down his knife and fork and jetting off to the bathroom.

That didn’t exactly answer Lance’s question. And left him with many more.

Maybe Keith was just having stomach problems? Not everyone was as open as Lance was about these things. He had the excuse that you couldn’t afford not to be open in a house with eight other people. But Keith had lived alone and had a general habit of keeping to himself, so Lance decided not to push. Instead, he suggested they do another check of the town.

“If we don’t see anymore Galra, we could ask around,” Lance offered as they began their trek, “maybe people will be more welcoming when they see we want to help.”

Keith grunted, shrugging on his jacket. Lance noticed the mark on his skin was gone.

“Your rash looks better.”

Keith jolted like he’d been shot with electricity.

“What!?” He spluttered, pulling down his sleeves with the desperation of a teenage boy covering up a new tattoo.

“Your rash?” Lance repeated uncertainly, “it’s gone.”

“Oh...” Keith peaked down his sleeves and relaxed at whatever he saw. Lance couldn’t help noting the fact he wasn’t allowed to see anything. Between this and the odd disappearance at breakfast, Lance felt a mighty need to speak.

“You know being ill isn’t a crime.” He said rather huffily. “You don’t need to cover it up.”

“What?”

Lance scoffed. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes. I am.” Keith hissed, before throwing a hand through his hair and getting caught in the knots. “I’m just not ill.”

“You sure don’t look it.”

“I said I’m not.” Keith snapped, glare sharper now his hair wasn’t in the way. Lance raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay.”

Keith didn’t seem to notice, gritting out another warning. “Just drop it.”

“I said okay!” Lance cried, exasperated at the lack of attention Keith was showing.

“Good.” The other all but growled out. Then he strode ahead, beelining towards the streets they hadn’t checked yesterday. Lance scoffed. He didn’t particularly want to follow now that Keith had irked him but didn’t have much of a choice. The mission came first and all. At least, that’s what Keith always said.

The villagers had struck Lance as mice the day before. And to some extent they still did today, scurrying away every time Lance got close to even looking at them. But they had become a little bolder. Only where Keith was concerned, but bolder none the less. They openly stared at him - some smiling almost sympathetically as they passed. They paid Lance no such favours. But with Keith, they’d seemed to have struck some sort of kinship, one even going as so far as to nod at him. It irritated Lance. He was supposed to be the friendly one. But it seemed to unnerve Keith. He nodded awkwardly back, ducked his head at their smiles, and began glancing around more wildly as they went on.

Lance didn’t like this. He began walking closer and in a sheer stroke of confidence, he brushed their knuckles together in the hopes of offering some sort of comfort. The first time, Keith just stepped further away, seemingly unaware of the purpose behind the gesture. And the second time he just shoved his hands in his pockets, craning his head around the opposing alley.

So Lance shoved his hands in his own pockets.

“Maybe we should start talking to villagers?”

“No!”

It was the most convinced Keith had sounded all day. His eyes went wide, and he stiffened like he’d seen a ghost. He seemed to notice Lance’s shock as he immediately went limp again and avoided his gaze.

“I mean, they don’t seem to like you much. Maybe we should split up?”

Lance sucked on his teeth. Whilst it was true the people had not appeared to take a shine to Lance, he didn’t much like to hear it.

“Right.” He said, trying not to let the bitterness ring out on the ‘t’ sound. “You go ask questions and I’ll do what? Keep walking around uselessly?”

Keith finally had the guts to look guilty now. His brows tilted in pain, and his lips squashed together. “Yes?”

Lance tutted. This made Keith panic.

“Not uselessly! Umm... just investigate? Check for bases and uhh... Galra stuff?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I-“ Keith began before sighing, “I’m not.”

He scuffed his boot against the curb. “I don’t know what’s going on here. And I don’t like it.“

Lance paused. Keith had lost the brashness of before, and the strange flighty behaviour was gone. Instead, he seemed lost. But more than that, he was willing to admit it. And that stood out to Lance more than all the throw away comments. Without another thought he stepped forward and squeezed Keith’s arm.

“It’s okay.” He soothed, staying within the others space like a satellite around a planet. “I don’t know what’s up with this town either. If there are Galra, I don’t know why they’re hiding. And if there aren’t, then these monsters are probably freaky enough. We’ll do our best though, right?”

“Right.” Keith agreed to the floor. Then he looked up, giving Lance one of his soft smiles. One that Lance hadn’t nearly seen enough of in the last few days. It made him stand stronger in his conviction.

“You go talk, I’ll go walk.”

Keith’s smile somehow grew warmer. “Okay.”

Lance wasn’t sure how long the walking and talking was supposed to last. But it was already sundown when Lance re-entered the town. There’d been no bases out in the fields, and no missile launchers hidden under basements. It was all rather too sweet and homely. Lance was starting to doubt the accuracy of Pidge’s intel. Maybe their coordinates had been wrong? Either way Lance was coming back empty handed. And the dark streets were even creepier on his own. Lance hurried along, pulling his jacket close to his body. Why hadn’t he headed back sooner?

There was a bang and Lance stumbled.

“Hello?” He called, like an idiot who wanted to get murdered. There was a second noise, a scraping of metal this time, coming from the alley way filled with bins. Lance crept forward. “Someone out there?”

Nothing now. Just the sprawling silence of night. He dug out his phone from his pocket and flicked on the torch. “Hello?”

Swishing the light along the alley he caught glimpses of shiny black sacks and food packets spilling on the floor. Lance drew out his breath. It was just fairy stories tricking his mind. Casually, he flicked the light back. Then something jumped into the beam and he nearly fell backwards. The shadow. It was like a bat ear. Lance threw the light around, glimpsing claws, fur, purple. Galra. Lance was stuck frozen a moment. Then the adrenaline kicked in and he was running, pelting down the pavement with his heart beating loud in his ears. Why were the Galra here!? On a quiet planet in the middle of the night. Lance burst into the alley but the Galra had a head start. And they ran at double speed, heavy boots stomping through the alley. Claws whined against stone as they scrambled for the corner, disappearing fast. Lance slammed into the wall, panting at the retreating figure. A Galra. Here of all places. Hiding in the shadows. Lance couldn’t understand why he hadn’t seen one sooner. Then it clicked. The monsters that appeared at night. They were Galra! Lance sprinted back to the hotel.

“Keith!” He yelled only halfway down the corridor. “KEITH!”

Skidding into their door, Lance banged his fists in the wood. “The Galra! They’re the monsters! Open up we need to go!”

There was no answer.

“Keith?”

Lance leant his head against the door, getting his breath back. Maybe Keith was still out?

“I’ll go get the spare keys.” Lance muttered, smacking the door once more before running off again. His plan formed naturally in his head. Grab weapons. Find Keith. Hunt Galra. So caught up in these thoughts, Lance forgot to pay attention as he ran and the next moment he was colliding with a huge mass.

“Sorry!” Lance cried, stumbling towards the floor. In a stroke of luck, he managed to get his footing just before his nose hit the ground but his triumph was short lived when he heard the sound of crashing behind him. Clearly, his opponent hadn’t been spared the same fate. Lance spun around, worry about to spill from his lips when he came to an abrupt halt.

Across the hall was a Galra. There was no way to deny it - indigo skin, large bat-like ears, blown pupils and yellow irises. But that’s not what caught Lance’s attention. Because across the hall from him was someone familiar. And the petrified look smacked across their face was so wrong it made his stomach turn leaden.

“Keith?”

“Don’t look!” Keith shouted, throwing his hands to his face. “Please.”

His ears drooped - large purple ones covered in fur - and he attempted to hide under his shoulders. But Lance couldn’t stop looking. Even with his hands over his face, Lance could see how Keith’s skin had changed - texture like a peach, colour of a plum. His shape was the same, but his features were sharper. Or maybe just more striking in this palate. Either way, Lance had never seen Keith like this before. He wanted to speak but moved instead. And that was a mistake as Keith flinched back.

“Don’t!” He yelled, eyes flashing gold. He was trembling, curling into the corner where the floor met the wall. “I’ll be fine in the morning, okay? Just- don’t look. Please.”

He wasn’t looking at Lance. But the cracks in his voice made Lance sure if he saw his face in that moment, it would break his heart. Lance hated this place in an instant. Hated the whole universe for making his best friend cower on the floor. But more than that, he was filled with a mighty need to see Keith standing with his usual strength once again. So Lance stepped forward, more carefully than before and bent into a crouch.

“Keith?” He called quietly. The boy slowly lifted his head, hesitant but willing. And when he did, Lance brought his hands up, cupping Keith’s cheeks and sweeping his thumbs along the plump lift in his skin. “Please don’t hide.”

Then he tilted forward, capturing Keith’s lips in his own. It was gentle, Lance slowly letting his warmth spread through Keith. But not without purpose. With every moment of the kiss, Lance wanted Keith to feel that he wasn’t alone. That he was loved. That he had no reason to be scared. And when they parted, Lance felt a little giddy, eyes catching on the shine lining Keith’s lips.

“You- why’d you-?” Keith stammered, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Kiss you?” Lance supplied, leaning back with a sly grin, “because I wanted to.”

Keith gawped. Then glanced away and that’s where the gawping ended. He seemed to remember where he was, who he was, and his cheeks burned bright red. He pulled back out of Lance’s hands.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Keith cried, eyes suddenly flashing yellow, “I’m a Galra! I’m a monster! Even without the freaky moonlight, nothing’s going to change that! It’s in my dna!”

The words were harsh, and they left splinters in Lance’s ears. But he felt no less determined.

“You’re not a monster.” Lance said firmly. “Never have been.”

Then he reached out, tracing his fingers around Keith’s jaw, noticing how the soft hairs moved with him. “And Galra or not, who you are has nothing to do with the looks on your face or the genes in your bones.”

“But-” Keith began. His eyes became watery, words holding half the fight they had before. And a moment later, the boy collapsed all together, falling into Lance’s chest. “What about the team?” He asked wetly, twisting his fingers into the front of Lance’s shirt. “Allura. And Pidge. They hate Galra.”

Lance shook his head. Curling his arms around Keith, he pulled him closer, burying his nose in his hair.

“They don’t.” He said softly, pressing a kiss behind Keith’s ear, and inhaling the earthy scent. “They hate what happened. They like you.”

Keith’s ear twitched. He snuggled in closer, almost like he was trying to hide.

“And you?”

The question was spoken so quietly Lance might have missed it. But the vulnerability made it impossible to. Lance looked down at the boy in his arms. A lump of purple and fluff clinging to his chest like a koala. And couldn’t understand how anyone could hate such a gentle person. Someone who only showed strength in adversity, chose kindness even though he’d suffered so much. Lance burned with a sudden illogical feeling of injustice. Because Keith deserved to be happy. Just like anyone else.

“Of course I like you.” It seemed too obvious to even say. Lance didn’t go around kissing just anyone after all.

“And what about the Galra?” Keith asked, or more mumbled. Lance felt the movement of it right against his neck and was almost too distracted to answer. But he knew how important this conversation was. So, squeezing Keith tight, he answered honestly.

“The Galra aren’t evil.” He said, with a sort of finality that made it cement in his mind. “There are good Galra. And there are bad Galra. Just like humans. There are confused Galra and then, there’s survivors. Like you.”

Lance pulled back, reaching between them to take Keith’s hand and tangle their fingers together. “You’re scared?”

Keith nodded weakly. “What if they hate me?”

The way his voice wavered broke Lance’s heart.

“They won’t.” He pressed, tugging Keith’s hand up to his lips to kiss along his knuckles. “I won’t.”

He continued pressing kisses to the purple skin as he spoke, “and if anyone decides to dislike you for your biology then more fool them.” And then, because the thought made Lance’s lips widen uncontrollably, he added, “and more you for me,’ before kissing all they way up Keith’s arm and landing right in the crook of his neck. Keith squirmed under he attention but there were hints of laughter in his breaths so Lance decided not to stop. He pressed a final kiss under his jaw, humming against the sensitive skin before finally hooking his chin over Keith’s shoulder and pulling them into embrace once again.

“What if I stay like this forever?” Keith asked. His words were vibrations across Lance’s chest, but they carried a weight that sunk much deeper.

“You won’t.” Lance assured, remembering their previous conversations with the receptionist and the strange people on the hill, all about the moon and monsters that only came out at night. He realised now, they were probably just nervous of outsiders seeing their Galra traits and Lance could understand why; a seed of guilt planting in his stomach when he thought of the awful things he’d said about the Galra. And he realised then what he needed to say.

“But it wouldn’t matter if you did.”

Lance leaned back now, fixing Keith with a determine look.

“You’re you Keith.” He said softly, brushing at the tears trailing the others cheeks. “You’re kind. You’re brave. You’re stupid. You’re Galra. You’re everything you are. And you don’t need to be ashamed of any of it.”

Keith’s lashes fluttered as he looked down, cheek poking Lance’s fingers. “I am though.”

The words rang heavy in the quiet room. Lance knew the feeling. Of wanting to hide. The fear of not being good enough, of somehow being wrong. It wasn’t a pleasant one. But it wasn’t one he’d defeated yet either.

“Sometimes,” he said, voice unexpectedly raw. He coughed, clearing his throat, but it didn’t help much. “Sometimes it feels like the world wants to hate us. And sometimes it’s hard not to agree. But we don’t have to.”

He pulled Keith close again, tangling his fingers into his hair. “I don’t like who I am sometimes. And sometimes it’s really hard to fight those thoughts.” There were prickles forming in his eyes, but Lance pressed forward. “But I don’t want to feel like that forever.”

The feeling glowed like a fire in the pit of his stomach slowly taking form. It wasn’t roaring yet, just embers dancing around a fat wooden log. But it would. And Lance took comfort in the fact that he would get there.

“We won’t.” Keith whispered back. “I’ll fight with you.”

And Lance felt it’s flames flicker a little brighter. With a sudden resolution, he buried a kiss into Keith’s neck, messy like a raspberry. “Thank you.” He murmured. It felt like more than just two words. He took a moment to feel them. Then Lance took in a lungful of air, and got to his feet, refreshed but no less exhausted.

“Come on,” he said, offering out a hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

Keith smiled shyly. Then he took it. And allowed himself to be led all the way back to the suite, into Lance’s room and into his bed.

It wasn’t much different from being on the floor really. Lance tugging Keith close until his head fit snuggly against his neck and their chests pressed firmly together. Only now, he could feel the soft drumming of Keith’s heart. And hear the peaceful ins and outs of his sleeping breaths, puffing gently over his skin. It was relaxing. And surrounded by the warmth of blankets and intimate embrace, Lance decided he’d found something to like about this planet. It was a haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof! this spiralled! all i wanted to do was write some fluff and blam! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Also please let me know if the formatting is weird I uploaded this from my phone and did the HTML myself 😬😬


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